The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1887-09-09
CAPTAIN LIE A STORY.

From the French.
One bright autumn morning, many
years ago, afuneral procession wound
its way through the streets of st. sau-
veur, towards the small but we'll car
ed for cemetery.
1t was a soldiers funeral. A guard
walked beside the fower-strewn bier.
Two by two, with bent heads, the
soldiers followed it. The mufied
drums beat heavily. ashes to ashes,
dust to dust" they seemed to say.
Women looked from their windows
as the sad procession marched on.
"He is gone at last, this poor Cap.
tain lie Mari" said one.
''And a happy release for him"
sighed anoIhar.
''Never did a brave soldier live with
SO many wounds, such dreadful mu-
tilations. Yet he was handsome
still-a beautiful face, | saw it in the
coffin" said another.
Then they crossed themselves and
went back to work.
Que only Of those soldiers returned
to the house in which their dead COM
rade had dwelt, after the ceremonies
were over. 1t was the colonel OF the
regiment.
To him, in his dying hours, I
Mar had gwen a little note, ia which
he had read these words:
My Old Friend.-When / am gone, | de-
sire o to take from my desk q small
packet or manuscript which you viii find
there. 1t is the story OF my life. Even to
you / have been r~eticent, but now [ desire
you to know all. You may think me a
madman when you have read the story;
and, indeed no one can know whether he
is mad or not, but you know me too well
to suspect me OF falsehood. The truth Of
what / have written is as absolute to me
as that Of my own existence.
Read it and do what you win with it.
Yours ever. LIE MAR.
It was to obtain this legacy that
the colonel retraced his steps to the
home of his dead comrade that day.
As lie Mar had said, he knew nothing
Of his life save that they had fought
together, yet he had always felt that
some mystery surrounded him, that
there were sorrows in the past too
great to be spoken or.
At the dead of the night, / n the soli-
tude Of his own room. Colonel Mestay-
er unrolled the paper, covered by the
words his friendha written, and read
the following story.
Dear Messenger, Before / became a
soldier / lived with my father in a
chateau near Paris. / was his young
est son, and in his way he was fond
OF me; his kindness, however, depend
ed altogether on my implicit obedience.
Like most young men | had fallen in
love. The object Of my affection was
not a lady Of my own rank in life; she
was q poor little shop girl, named
Airline.
/ have always thought her the
sweetest thing on earth; certainly her
black ayes and her long, gIittering,
waving black hair were charms any
woman might have envied. / nerer
mentioned Airline ct home, Of coUrse,
that you quite understand. Her
grandfather was q little old man who
carved wooden brackets for a living,
andthey lived on a fourth floor in a
very poor neighborhood.
When l was Eve and twenty year
OF age my father said to me:
"Adolph, it is time for you to mar
ny. / have selected a wife for you. It
is young Mademoiselle Moran
sBut have Il wish to marry I
said,
ssAIlIe. Moran's beauty, position
and wealth render her d most
cligible wisaf for OH Her satha
proves OF you; he will give her a fine
portion, and, il you marry according
TO my wishes, ! viii settle a suitable
sum upon you and giveyouthe pretty
chateau at st. Sauveur, which you
have so much admired. / can afford
to DO generous to an obedient son,
but. it / am offended with you,
what have your"
mot a SON.
"Ah, well, said he, II see you un-
Gerstand the situation
He walked away from me we'll salts
fed. Iremained where hehad left nee.
I asked myself what I should do. 1
could not tell him that ! loved some
one else. Love had nothing to do
with BIN plans. Icould not tell him